The moment their lips pressed together, Zane Hawthorne's pupils quivered.
The last time they kissed, there was a barrier between them, so he could still pretend to be calm.
But this time, the warmth of her lips was real and tangible, her hurried breath tangling with his, which had all but stopped.
She was wearing lip balm; at this distance, he could even smell a hint of sweetness.
'No.'
'I tasted it.'
Zane Hawthorne belatedly realized her lips were moving.
She was inexperienced, unsure of how to kiss. She was probably imitating the leads from the old romance dramas she watched as a child. She shifted her angle, her lips giving a light, almost accidental suckle.
In that instant, Zane Hawthorne felt the blood in his veins reverse its course.
The warmth from her lips ignited him, spreading from that single point of contact to his cool hands and feet. It was like being transported back to his youth, to the morning he'd first dreamed of her.
